


Enemy Mine

by Annie17851



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean; oral sex; angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1776976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie17851/pseuds/Annie17851
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demon!Dean wants to team up with an angel of the Lord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enemy Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Dean, in the bunker dungeon, wants to team up with Castiel to rule the world; Castiel is not quite sure.

Enemy Mine

 

“This is a nightmare,” Castiel mutters, mostly to himself, but he knows Sam, standing close to him, can hear.

Cas has not yet seen Dean. Sam has told him the story, disheartened, under-the-skin distraught; how Dean was murdered by Metatron (and oh, how that re-breaks Castiel inside, the memory of that bloody angel blade in Metatron’s hand). Sam has told him how he convinced a barely-there Dean to come to the dungeon in the bunker, baited his brother with the thought of trapping Crowley, with intentions of trying to learn Dean’s place in the demon pecking order. There are new demon trap signs everywhere inside that room, so Dean isn't going anywhere. 

Castiel is not up for this. His stolen grace is all but gone and Cas doesn't know if his body will actually burn up or just stay human – for good this time.

Sam is talking and Cas has not been paying attention. He shakes his head minutely in an attempt to clear his mind, the I’m-not-really-here look on his face making Sam repeat himself.

“Can we cure him?” Sam is asking desperately. “I almost cured Crowley when I was doing the three trials to close the gates of Hell. Trial 3 –cure a demon! I know how…..”

Castiel holds up a hand to stop Sam.

“You will die,” he reminds Sam matter-of-factly. 

“There has to be a way I can do it, so I don’t die,” Sam replies, more hope in his voice than Cas can stand to hear, more hope than confidence. 

Castiel’s hand places itself flat against the iron door to the dungeon, something his mind doesn't remember telling his hand to do.

“And while we try to figure that out? However long that might take- we just leave Dean in here?” Cas sounds broken, even to himself.

“Yes,” Sam tells him determinedly. “We call everyone – everyone who’s left anyway-  
Make it a group mission. We’ll trap Crowley and torture him till he tells us – we’ll – we’ll figure something!”

“If this happened to any other hunter……” Cas starts to remind him softly.

“Dean’s not any other hunter!” Sam declares vehemently. “And I know he’s not just any other hunter, any other human, any other ANYTHING, to you, Castiel!”

Cas flinches visibly. Sam knows right where to aim that barb. This shuts Cas down, but only momentarily.

Cas knows he has to go into the room. Knows Sam desperately wants him to confirm or disprove Sam’s worst fears. Cas knows that somewhere inside, unspoken, Sam thinks the angel of the Lord can help Dean.

This angel of the Lord can’t even help himself.

He takes his hand from the door reluctantly. Reluctantly, because now he has to use the hand to actually open the door. See Dean alive. (Burst of joy in his chest, quickly crushed.) See Dean with a demon’s face. Cas wonders briefly, idly, if Sam realizes that Cas won’t see Dean’s human face. That he’ll see some nightmare facade instead. Wonders if Sam has given any thought to how much more this will break the angel. 

Castiel knows it doesn't matter.

Hand on the door handle, Cas half-turns his head toward Sam.

“Go…..somewhere else,” Cas suggests. “If anything good happens, I’ll call you. If I don’t call…..I don’t know what to tell you to do, Sam. If I can’t help him, I won’t want to come out of this room anyway.”

“Cas,” Sam starts, but has nothing to say, squeezes the angel’s shoulder, and turns to head back upstairs despondently. Castiel tries to brace himself and pulls the door open warily.

Dean is all the way across the room, leaning easily against the wall, watching, with his human, green eyes, as Cas enters the room cautiously, closing the door behind him. The entire inside of the door has been transformed into a demon trap. The sigil is painted over most of every wall, the heat vents in the floor, the ceiling. Sam was very busy before he got Dean to come down here. Cas thinks there’s no way Dean was that naive, no way he could actually fall for the lie Sam told to get him here. Dean is here because Dean wants to be here. Or at least some part of Dean does. 

Cas can see Dean’s face – his human, much-loved face. Weird.

“Castiel,” Dean says simply in greeting, peeling himself away from the wall to walk casually toward the middle of the room. “I knew I heard you out there!”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies, the words familiar on his tongue, moving to meet Dean, standing some feet away from him, small frown on the angel’s face. “Sam said…”

“I know what Sam said,” Dean cuts him off sharply.

Castiel blinks – no - still regular, human Dean. “But I can see your face….your real human face.”

Dean laughs shortly. “Yea, well, be glad, because I’ve seen my new real face in the mirror. So, this means, no angel mojo, right?”

Cas sighs. “Yes, my stolen grace is just about gone. I want to help Dean, I do. Sam thinks I can. And he wants to finish the trials by curing you of being a demon.’

“Well, there’s a thought.” Dean muses. “Except I don’t want to be cured. Although, on the plus side, that would get rid of one more Winchester.”

“You would never say that – if you were you.” Cas tells him quietly.

“I’m a better me, now. And you can be a better you. Listen, go gank another dick of an angel and grace yourself up again. We’d be such a team, the two of us. Immovable object and irresistible force – that can be us, Cas! All you gotta do is walk out of here with me. Why do you think I let Sammy lock me up in here? I knew sooner or later you would show up.”

Cas backs up another step. “That’s not really the plan here, Dean.”

“Fuck your plan!” Dean snarls, eyes switching over from green to black instantaneously, backing Cas up yet another step. “I have plans of my own. Plans that involve dead hunters and dead angels. But, I’ll spare you, Castiel, for old times’ sake. “

“Dean,” Cas begins, trying to find words, some way to find out if any bit of humanity still remains in the man before him. Cas’s eyes start to burn with the thought that there is nothing left, that Dean will have to be killed, that he, Castiel, will have to do it, will have to kill the once Righteous Man, so his little brother will be spared the deed.

“Cas.” Dean interrupts sarcastically.” Can I call you Cas?” he asks smoothly, suddenly green-eyed again, moving closer, slow inch by slow inch. “I did give you the name – well, the other me did.”

Cas’ heartbeat flips the tiniest bit, and Dean hears it. Cas knows he hears it, can tell by the slight smirk that appears and disappears so quickly on Dean’s face. Cas’ feet have stopped moving him away from Dean now.

“I’m aware,” Dean says evenly, “have been aware for some time, actually, that you did have other plans for me. Other than curing a demon. Maybe not plans, though. Maybe a lot more like hopes. Hopes you never told anyone about. Not even me, which is a damn shame. ‘Cause, you know, good-looking son of a bitch like me, really? How could you help yourself? Your human, virgin self. Everyone could see it. So many things, so many times things were said, practically screamed at me. We don’t have to be enemies, Castiel.”

This whole time Dean has been moving closer, and Castiel is rooted to the spot. Dean is only inches away now and the angel can feel the heat radiating off the demon’s – off Dean’s - body. 

“Does my lack of personal space disturb you, angel?” Dean asks coolly. “We've talked about this.” He adds lightly, with a sardonic smile, remembering, Cas knows, a conversation in a motel bathroom so long ago.

Cas closes his eyes briefly against the feel of Dean Winchester so close, gathers the tiny bit of grace left in him for courage, then looks up fearlessly into the face just inches from his.

“We’ll find a way out of this, Dean, we will. You said the three of us would be enough, said we always were……”

“Shut your mouth!” Dean orders him, hands reaching over to grip the angel’s shoulders hurtfully. Something passes fleetingly across Dean’s face. “No – open it!” he growls instead, crashing his mouth suddenly onto Castiel’s, hot tongue licking, seeking Cas’ and Castiel’s mouth opens, tastes Dean’s tongue – finally, finally! And he can’t do this, can’t let this happen, but he can’t care about that. Cas wants to pull away because it’s a demon. Can’t, because it’s Dean. He can have Dean, demon!Dean, human!Dean, he just can’t care anymore. There has to be a way, some way, please. 

Dean pulls away abruptly, and Cas feels the loss of Dean’s mouth and hands instantly, achingly.

“Oh, fallen Angel.” Dean teases darkly. “You want it so, so much. Like I said, we don’t have to be enemies. Not at all.”

Dean flicks his wrist nonchalantly and Cas is flung against the far wall, and not gently. A flash of memory, Dean pushed against a wall by Cas himself, and he wonders for just a second if the demon remembers this, too, and is planning to beat him to a pulp. He can’t move, and believes Dean will simply kill him now.

“No, I’m not going to beat you. Except maybe off.” Dean remarks, with a slight raise of an eyebrow. He comes closer, holding a hand out in front of him, moving it up and down slowly, and Cas can feel it on his cock, the up and down motion transferred from halfway across the room. Cas bites his lips against the moan that wants to work its’ way involuntarily up his throat.

“The angel likes that,” Dean murmurs. “You know, I can do it all, right from here. I can make you come, and not ever touch you. It might be fun, to watch you squirm. I can hear you moan, whether you want me to or not. Touch or no touch? Your choice, Castiel.” Eyes roll from green to black and back again. Cas can’t care.

The moan does escape from Castiel now. “Touch,” he whispers urgently. “You. I choose you. I will always choose you,” he breathes.

Castiel doesn't actually see Dean move, but here he is, right up against him, looking like Dean, looking like a Dean who wants him.

The first wash of Dean’s breath in his ear contrasts so sharply with the feel of the cold concrete against his back that Castiel’s heart all but stops in his chest.

“Angel – don’t you move!” whispers into him, unnecessary words, because Castiel couldn't move a single muscle no matter how much he wants to right now.

Dean’s hands are all over him, hair to face to jawline and neck, smoothing over him, exploring, pushing the damn trench coat open even more, ripping the shirt open and pushing it out of the way eagerly. Dean’s mouth is on his again and Cas is so hungry, has so little grace left that the human feelings threaten to overwhelm him. He kisses Dean back urgently, tries to talk at the same time. “Let me move- want to touch you, need to feel you!” he is gasping quietly into Dean’s hot mouth and suddenly he can pull his arms away from the wall. He wraps them around Dean tightly, knows he can’t possibly ever pull Dean close enough. Groans when Dean’s mouth abandons his again and Cas slams his head against the wall behind him in frustration. 

“Dean,” he grinds out, breath stolen from his lungs when he feels Dean’s mouth making its’ way, bite by hungry bite, gentle humming under it all, down his chest, abdomen, down to the waist of his jeans. His cock is so hard by now, huge and his jeans feel so tight, so suffocating. Cas finds his fingers twisting sharply in Dean’s hair, trying to push him down, not even sure what he wants – just that he wants.

“Dean,” he gasps again, “pants,” he whispers harshly, and the slight humming against his skin stops, replaced by the huff of hot breath as Dean laughs, just a little , just a tiny bit, contemptuously.

“Angel,” Dean breathes against Cas’ overheated, oversensitive skin. “Oh, fallen Angel - fallen for a human who doesn't exist anymore. How that must distress you!’

“You exist, I’ll find you,” Castiel promises quietly, the hands in Dean’s hair gentling a bit.

“Dreamer!” Dean sneers. “In the meantime….” He says, turning his attention to the zipper in front of him, tracing the hard outline of Cas’ cock with a finger enticingly. He puts his mouth over the denim, blowing hot breath right through the material, dragging another moan from Cas.

“Dean, please,” Cas groans.

Dean smiles against Cas’ denim-covered hard-on.   
“I like you begging – do it again.” he commands.

“Please,” comes out in a barely-heard whisper from above him, Cas’s hands tightening in his hair again. “Waiting – so long – just waiting….”

Cas can’t talk anymore, can only whimper low in his throat, because Dean opens his jeans, nudges them down just far enough, blows hot breath across the head and then just… dives his head down, takes Cas’ cock in his mouth like he needs it to live, and everything in Cas, muscles, breath, mind, is frozen. 

Castiel has nothing to compare this to, the heat, the pull, the coil of his insides, because it’s Dean. It’s a demon but it’s still Dean, and maybe the demon is Dean without inhibitions and Cas doesn't want to dissect this now, can’t, because everything inside of him is going to burst out into the room and possibly kill him, and he doesn't even care.

And this is nothing like April. This drives the memory of April right out of existence. Dean is moaning around Cas’ cock and the angel thinks that in a second or two he is going to pull Dean’s hair right out of his scalp, but he needs to touch, he needs to feel and any second he’s going to explode and die. He’s going to explode and die with a demon’s (awesome) mouth wrapped around his cock. 

The coil inside him winds even tighter and he knows he’s close, wants very desperately to shove his hips into Dean, can’t because he is still all but frozen in place against the wall. And then he is coming blindingly, down Dean’s throat and Dean is gripping Cas’ hips so hard there will be bruises and Cas still can’t care.

Castiel’s eyes are still closed when Dean releases his cock to the cool air. Cas looks down to see Dean sitting back on his heels. Dean is running his hand over the bulge in his own jeans, and that doesn't help Cas get his breathing back to normal. Not at all. 

“Let me down, Dean,” Cas asks quietly, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight at his feet.

“Still not happy, Castiel? Want some of this?” Dean teases mockingly, stroking himself even harder.

“Please, Dean,” Cas replies, dismayed at how raspy, how needy he sounds. But it’s Dean. Somewhere in there, he knows it’s Dean.

Dean stands suddenly, flicking a hand at Castiel and the angel falls away from the wall abruptly. 

“No more for you today, Angel.” Dean declares with a finality that makes Castiel more uneasy than ever. “Get yourself dressed. We need to talk about this a little more – this ‘team’ thing. You and me, Cas! We can rule the world! You come back tomorrow. Maybe I’ll let you touch me a little. But don’t tell Sammy – he’s not invited!”  
Cas hesitates, small frown on his face, as he redresses himself quickly.

“That’s never going to happen, Dean.” He says quietly.

Dean laughs then, almost like the old, human Dean. “I’ll wait right here,” he promises. “I have all the time in the world. However, Mr. my-grace-is-almost-gone, you don’t. So, come back tomorrow, and we can talk about it. Or do some other stuff you like and then talk about it. How’s that sound?”

Castiel pauses at the sigil-covered iron door.

“We’ll get you back, Dean. I’ll get you back. I don’t know how yet, but, grace or not, I will.”

Dean smiles widely as Castiel pulls the door closed behind him. “You know where to find me!”


End file.
